captcha

I have a confession to make.

I am terrible at captchas. I cannot, for the life of me, ever get one right the first time I try. It doesn't matter how simple it is. It doesn't matter if it is only five letters. It doesn't matter if it is actually a word. I simply cannot get them right the first time I try.

Okay, I have gotten a few right. Maybe four times. In my entire internet life.

There is something about them that I just can't get. I don't know if it is that I miss a letter, or my brain doesn't translate the jumble to the keyboard properly, or what. I just know that it's hard for me. It nearly always takes two or three tries.

When I was in high school I carried all of my books round with me all day long because I couldn't get my locker open either.

High school was hard enough for me because I was (and still am) a complete social reject who could not have a normal conversation. The fact that I was forced to stand there and try the combination on my locker four, five, six times made me feel even more like the spotlight was on my dorkiness. It was easier just to lug all my things with me.

I can't do that with captchas though. I can't lug around all my comments and emails with me until I get to the right person and give them to you. At least I can try the captchas over and over in the privacy of my home and I am not late for class because I can't do them.

But if you have a captcha set up somewhere where I might leave comments I guarantee you have not heard from me as often as you would if you didn't have it. I understand the need for it. I am not asking you to change it. I'm just saying that you are missing out on my sage advice and catchy witticisms. (great word, witticism, isn't it?)

There are literally times when I start to leave a comment, see that there is a captcha that I have to get through, groan, and click off of the page because I cannot bear to run the captcha gauntlet at that moment.

It's sad, really.

Last night Gabe and I went out to get sandwiches for dinner because I have been totally un-dinner-inspired lately. They had cookies. Big, chewy, beautiful, chocolate chip cookies with no nuts in them. I ordered my sandwich as I was picking up the cookie, wide eyed.

"What side do you want with your sandwich?" the girl asked me.

I didn't hear her.

"and this great big chocolate chip cookie" I said.

"What side?"

"huh? Oh.... Potato salad. And this great big cookie."

"A drink?"

"It smells so good," I said, inhaling the cookie through the plastic wrap. "Smell it." I shoved it in Gabe's face.

"mm hmm," he said. "What do you want to drink?"

"Root beer," snnniiiifffff.

He ordered and we got our drinks and went to sit down and wait for our sandwiches. I looked at my cookie and then at Gabe.

"Do you think sometimes people that don't know me think I am a little slow?"

He nodded and said, "That's quite possible. It's also possible that you are a little bit slow."

Whatever. I just really like cookies and I don't get them very often.